


Craving

by Violetwylde



Category: Naruto
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Drinking to Cope, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Spanking, leads to, sexual identity confusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 22:39:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1875105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violetwylde/pseuds/Violetwylde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bad day, a worse girlfriend, and a powerful need to get drunk lead me down a path I never could have expected.  And the weirdest part is, I really liked it.  Jesus, don't tell anybody, but I think I want to do it again.  Narusasu.  AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mistaken Identity

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Тяга](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11179716) by [MartiLopez](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MartiLopez/pseuds/MartiLopez)



> If you believe that alcohol impairment is grounds for dubious consent, than please be forewarned, you'd consider this dub-con. Is there such thing as enthusiastic dub-con? 'Cos that seems more accurate. Beta'd by my dearest Itabitaboo. You should all thank her.

I'm what you might call "mild-mannered". I got into a little trouble now and then when I was younger, but since I graduated college and decided I should try my hand at being an adult, I've kept a pretty low profile. I thought I was doing everything right—girlfriend, decent job, car I can't really afford—but last week, well... last week things got a little weird. I might even go as far as to say things got pretty fucked up.

I'd like to say, given how much my life has been turned upside down, that it's a long story. But really, it's not. It boils down to one night, one single encounter, and the awkward, confusing events that followed.

Allow me to take you back to that fateful evening.

Imagine a club, like any other—thumping music, strobing lights and far too many people. Now, picture a lone blond in faded blue jeans and a white t-shirt sitting at the bar, wasting no time getting shit-faced. That'd be me. Let's start there.

* * *

"Another," I say as I slam my highball back onto the counter, rattling the shot glass inside.

The bartender stares at me for a second, like he's trying to determine if I've had enough. I've already had three. What's one more? Nevermind that Kiba told me to stop at two. He's not here right now.

The guy behind the bar must've decided I'm okay for another, as he refreshed my Red Bull and slid a shot of jager next to it. I nod my thanks and slap a crumpled ten on the counter. I drop the shot and bring the glass to my lips. The liquor burns its way down my throat, leaving an anise flavor lingering on my tongue and a warmth blooming in my belly.

I feel a pleasant tingle wash through me, further loosening my muscles and blurring the edges of my vision. It fills my mind with a soft static... almost enough to drown out the icy voice that has been echoing in my head all night.

_"You're such a fucking loser, Naruto. I'm so done with you."_

God, what a bitch. Why is that you never see it sooner? How can you be with a woman for over seven fucking months and never realize she's actually a raging cunt? I don't usually use that word, but... there's just no other way to describe a woman that calls you a loser and breaks up with you the same day you're laid off. And it's not like I did anything to deserve losing my job either. It's the fucking economy. Half the damn office was fired today. I just happened to be a recent hire, so of course I was going to get cut.

I sigh and consider ordering one more drink, just to make sure I forget, but I'm pretty much tapped. I need to save the cash I have for a cab, so I slide off the barstool and head towards the dancefloor. My first few steps are unsteady, but my equilibrium catches up after a couple more strides and I make it through the crowd without incident.

All I want is a night to forget. I want to get trashed and laid. I've accomplished the former and now I'm gonna start working on the latter. Kiba was supposed to be my wingman tonight, but the bastard picked up some chick after the first drink. It's the fucking leather jacket. Girls see him leaning against the bar, looking all aloof and dangerous, and their panties are wet before he even says hello. I should be so lucky. Since when has blond hair, blue eyes and a charming smile failed to attract the ladies? Well, since tonight, I guess.

But I'm about to change that back. If brooding at the bar didn't work, then rubbing up on some hot bodies will. I scan the crowd, looking for somebody I can sidle up to. My eyes move over people, quickly assessing and dismissing potential partners. I skip all the fair-haired girls. That hue is just a little to close the strawberry-blonde that just dumped my ass. You know what, no redheads either, for that matter. I need to find somebody different. My gaze lingers on a couple brunettes before the crowd parts and reveals a girl almost directly in front of me.

I can tell, even from behind, that she's exactly what I want. She's tall and lean and dressed all in black, the complete opposite of the pretentious bitch I've been dating—Sakura was short and curvy, with an affinity for pink. I make my way towards her, watching as her hips swivel and sway in time with the music. She's got a punk look, with her pitch black hair that's been spiked up in the back and the thick, studded belt that tops her skinny jeans. A tight racerback tank hugs her slender torso and on top of that, a sleeveless fishnet shirt. I look her up and down once more now that I'm closer and see she doesn't have much of an ass, but what  _is_  there is moving in enticing circles.

The song changes, turns to something slower but with a beat strong enough to guide my movements. Being this drunk actually  _helps_  my dancing skills. I feel loose and relaxed. The bass is thumping through me and my body undulates in time. Slowly, I close the distance between us, making sure I don't invade her space too suddenly. Our bodies brush inadvertently and I wait to see how she responds to the contact. I sense a moment of hesitation before I feel her hips roll and push back against me. Encouraged by this reaction, I press harder and start to grind.

As close as we are now, I can't help but notice her scent. It's not the strong, floral perfume I've become accustomed to. This has a distinct spice, with a fresh undertone. Maybe it's her hair gel. I risk a closer nuzzle into the spiked ebony hair and inhale. It entices me and makes my stomach twist.

"Mmm," I whisper and gently place my hands on her waist. "You smell good."

There's an emphasized roll of hips and throaty chuckle in response. Slowly, she turns around and I feel her body shift under my palms—she's surprisingly firm. Flicking back her bangs, she looks up to me.

I blink. And then I blink again. It must be the booze. It takes me a second to process what I'm seeing—dark, almond-shaped eyes fringed with thick lashes, high cheekbones and pouting lips. As attractive as these features are, there is something decidedly unfeminine about them. Then it hits me— _she's a dude_ —and my jaw drops in surprise.

"Am I that hideous?" he asks with mock offense. His voice isn't as deep as mine, but there's a thick quality to it. It's the kind of voice that you can lose yourself in.

"Sorry, I didn't realize you were a... I mean, I thought you were... uhhh," I can't seem to piece together a complete thought.

He smirks like he's enjoying my confusion. "A chick?" he finishes for me. "Trust me," he continues, then reaches for his crotch and gives it an emphatic squeeze. "I'm all man."

I'm in some sort of shock and I can't look away. As he gropes his junk, I realize that he never stopped dancing. His hips are still moving, rocking back and forth with the beat of the music. After a moment, his hand trails back up his torso and he laughs. "Eyes up here, handsome."

My gaze immediately snaps to his and I can feel the heat of my blush crawling from the back of my neck, over my face and to the very roots of my hair. Luckily, I know he won't be able to see it. Thank  _God_ for the poor lighting in here. Or, actually, maybe not. It was that same poor lighting that led me to believe this guy was a girl.

"Sorry," I say, having finally regained some of my senses.

I begin to pull away, but he reaches out for me and snags my forearm. "Thought you wanted to dance?" he asks innocently, as if it's not horrifically obvious that I've made a mistake and am trying to gracefully escape.

"Yeah, well, I thought you were a girl," I reply—a bit sardonically, I admit. I just don't know how I'm supposed to respond to this situation. My mind is reeling and my body isn't even  _trying_ to catch up. I can still feel the excited buzz that first coursed through me when I pressed my body against his. And the longer I stand here, the more intense it becomes.

He starts to move closer, not so close that we're touching but enough that I can feel his body heat. The hand he has on my arm moves up and down in a slow stroke, a sensation I'm acutely aware of and seem incapable of stopping.

"Come on now," he says with a coy smile. "You were just starting to get into it."

For the love of  _fuck,_  I don't know why I can't turn away. He's even closer now and I'm still just standing here. I guess he takes this as permission, because the next thing I know he's sliding his other hand around my waist and moving his body to fit against mine. He's straddling my thigh, grinding against me, and all I can think is that he smells so  _damn_  good.

My mind is slowly registering the situation, cataloging the sensation of his body against mine. Both of his hands are moving now, the one up and down my arm while the other is pressed against my lower back, persuading my body to move with his.

He leans up, causing our chests to bump. "I'm Sasuke," he says into my ear. There is something in his tone that tells me this isn't so much an introduction as it is an invitation.

And I don't know whether to accept it. I've got all kinds of signals going off in my brain, all completely contradicting one another. The logical part of my brain, the part that the alcohol has made fuzzy and dull, is telling me that this isn't right. Another part of my brain is insistent that anything that feels this good can't possibly be wrong. The final part of my brain, the bit that is focused on keeping me alive, is also struggling to function. It's screaming at me to  _take a damn breath, you idiot!_

But I can't. I can't breathe with those lips against my ear. His breath is teasing the fine hairs on my neck and my lungs are completely seized up.

He pulls back enough to peer up into my eyes and I suck in a ragged breath. "Naruto," I say along with my exhale. He smiles at this.

That's it. Whatever part of my brain that was resisting has died. It's been smothered by my hormones, its corpse buried under a deluge of lust.

With that conflict resolved, I regain control of my body. I put my hands back on his waist and start to move with him, pulling him tight to me so I can grind against his thigh like he is against mine. I can feel my pulse quicken and my blood heat up. Slowly, but surely, my veins begin to sing with liquid arousal. It doesn't help that his hands are fucking  _everywhere_ , running over my back and sides and chest. He's sinking his fingers into my hair and dragging his nails down my arms.

He must sense the change—the shift from dancing to foreplay—because his gyrations become exaggerated. I slip my hands down from his hips, run them over that studded belt, and grab onto his ass to encourage the forceful rocking.

There's no hiding it now. We're both hard.  _Jesus_. It's humid, the air is saturated with desire and we are fucking hard.  _Christ, Almighty_. I can feel his dick pressing into my leg and it's making me nauseatingly horny. I can't remember the last time I  _needed_  to fuck. Wanted to? Sure. But needed to? No. I have never felt such a powerful urge to bend somebody over and fuck them raw.

I don't know if it's the booze or the break up or the fact that this is completely insane... but right now, in this moment, this feels exceptionally correct. Whether it's right or wrong, I'll figure out later. All I know for certain is that I need this.

I look down at him while we essentially hump each other. He's got his face lowered, probably watching his hands as they grope my chest. Reaching one hand up from his ass, I brush back his dark bangs. When he peers up, the flashing lights catch a glint of metal. I see now that he has his right eyebrow pierced, a barbell with those cone beads. After another flash of magenta light, I notice a ring through his bottom lip on the opposite side. The piercings intrigue me, especially that lip ring. It's enticing in a way I can't quite explain. It's like icing on a cake—beautiful and decadent and begging to be tasted—and I have a sudden urge to know what it feels like...

I boldly lash my tongue across his mouth and feel the ring slip against it. The sensation is a smooth, cool contrast to his warm, plump lips.

I think I surprised him, if the little gasp he makes is any indication. I manage to flick the ring one more time before he parts his lips and sucks my tongue into his mouth. Now I'm the one who's wide-eyed with shock. Then his hands are in my hair, aggressively tugging and slanting my head, and our mouths form a tight seal around our writhing tongues.

We switch the angle of the kiss and I can feel that ring rubbing against my lip, abrading it in the most sensual way. I grab onto it lightly with my teeth and tug. Sasuke makes some amazing groaning sound in response and I slip my tongue back into his mouth to roll with his. The embrace degrades into madness. Pure, lust-induced madness. I block out the world around me and focus on delving my tongue deeper and deeper into his mouth.

He tastes like spearmint and vodka. The flavor makes my heart thump wildly in my chest. I can literally feel the blood being dumped into my dick, making me swell and leak and...  _Oh Lord. His tongue is pierced too_.

I have to break the kiss, before I come right here on the dancefloor. I don't pull back too far though. I leave our foreheads pressed together and inhale deeply as his delicious breath fans across my face.

Eventually, my senses return. I can hear the music thumping rhythmically and see the people standing all around us. I'm suddenly aware of the eyes on us and, even though the music is far too loud, I swear I can hear whispers. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, as this isn't exactly a gay bar. In fact, in the few other occasions I've been here, I can't recall having ever seen any even remotely queer activity.

"Let's get outta here," he says, looking directly into my eyes. There's no questioning his intention. I can see it plainly in those midnight pools.

I don't think twice. "Yeah," I reply and let him lead me off the dancefloor.

The world feels like it's spinning and I can't seem to keep my balance. We pass the bathroom and I stop, causing Sasuke to turn with a questioning look.

"I'm 'a take a piss real quick," I say, trying to keep from slurring too badly. He just nods and leans back against the wall.

Once in the bathroom, I head straight for the sink. I grip the porcelain until the tilting settles, then run some water to splash on my face. After a minute, I feel confident that I can make it to the urinal without falling down. I've got one arm braced on the wall with my head resting on my fist when I hear the bathroom door open. I ignore it, choosing instead to concentrate on the forty dollars worth of liquid I'm currently draining. Needless to say, I'm caught off guard when I'm shoved roughly by the shoulder. I stagger to the side just as I finish pissing and cast a glare to my left. My expression quickly turns from angry to confused when I see Kiba standing there, practically gawking at me.

"Dude... what?" I ask as I tuck myself back in and zip up my jeans.

"What?" he parrots back dubiously, followed by a more shrill, " _What_?"

"Yeah, what? You don't just walk up to a guy and get up in his face when he's got his dick out."

He stands there for a moment, apparently speechless, just staring. "Really, Naruto?" he finally says. "Are you sure about that? 'Cause from what I just saw on the floor, you might not mind if a dude came up to you while you had your dick out."

I meet his challenging mahogany eyes with my own for a moment before I bring my hands to my face and sigh. There is nothing I can say that would explain this situation. Even I don't understand exactly how I came to be making out with a guy on the dancefloor. "I don't know," I say and sidestep him, getting closer to the door. "Okay? It just sorta happened."

Kiba doesn't look impressed with this answer. "What does that even mean? How does that 'just sorta happen'?"

I shrug a shoulder and nervously scratch the back of my head. "Thought he was a chick..."

"Thought he was a chick?  _Thought he was a chick?_ " Kiba asks, his volume raising with each word. "Jesus, man. How drunk are you?"

"Drunk enough to take a swing at you if you don't back the fuck off!" I snap back. I can see the shock on his face at that—we've never fought like this before. But I don't want to deal with his questions right now. I just want him to back off and let me do what I want to do. And strange as it is to admit, what I want to do... is the guy standing out in the hallway.

"Look, I don't know. I thought he was a girl. He's obviously not, but he's still fucking hot." I pause for a moment and consider the words that have just come out of my mouth. I shake my head and continue, my voice almost a plea. "I don't care. He's not Sakura and that's what I need right now."

Kiba blinks, then wipes his hand down his face. When he looks back at me, there's only concern. "I just wanna make sure you know what you're doing. I didn't know you... swing... that way."

"I don't," I say, then chuff something between a laugh and a sigh, "but, whatever." I take another step towards the door. "I mean, I don't care. I know what I'm doing. Tonight. I know what I'm doing right now. Who knows what I'll think in the morning... but this is what I want tonight."

Kiba purses his lips. He has this sort of exasperated look on his face like he doesn't know what to do. I make it easy for him and just walk out the door. We'll talk more later. Right now, I just want to get out of here before my buzz wears off.

Sasuke's still leaning against the wall across from the bathroom. He gives me an assessing look before asking, "Everything okay?"

He must have heard that little argument. Doesn't matter. I look him up and down as he stands there with his arms crossed over his chest. My eyes take in what I've already seen as well as some new features— like the indigo streaks in his bangs, piercings in his ears and fraying holes in the knees of his jeans.

I finish my appraisal of him with a smirk. "Everything's fine. Let's go."


	2. No Turning Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasuke may have a few kinks. Public sex may be one of them.

When we get outside the summer air is clear, if only a few degrees cooler than in the club. We walk through the deserted parking lot, weaving between cars and making our way towards the street. He stops between a Charger and a Rav4 and pushes me up against the SUV. I don't even have a chance to ask what he's doing before his tongue is sliding into my mouth. That intoxicating taste drowns my protests and I pull him against me.

His kisses are fierce and ravenous. His mouth crashes against mine over and over, then it begins to wander along my jaw and down my neck. I can feel his lips and tongue—warm and wet—and the hard metal of his piercings gliding over my skin.

He's aggressive with the way he has me pushed up against the car, one hand sliding into my back pocket while the other pushes my chin up and exposes my neck. I don't complain though, not even when I feel the wet drag of his tongue down my neck or the scrape of his teeth along my clavicle. There's a tug on my collar and I can tell by the humid breath washing over me that he's biting my shirt, pulling it down and revealing more skin. Before I can even offer my opinion on this behavior, he's moved on to drag his incisors down my chest over the thin cotton. The material serves as a poor barrier when he locates my nipple and worries it between his teeth.

"The fuck?!" I shout, jumping in surprise.

He pulls away with a smirk, looking up at me from his low vantage. There is something devious in his eyes and I'm suddenly worried that little nip is nothing compared to what he has planned.

He sinks to his knees, dragging his hands across my body to converge at my belt. My heart is hammering, my throat thick with anticipation. I try to swallow, but the lump of excitement is too persistent. He works my buckle and fly like it's second nature and I nervously look around as his hands find their way into my pants, tugging them down. Nobody's around, but I can hear the occasional shout and change in music volume as the club doors open and close and it only heightens my anxiety.

"Sasuke," I say, my voice a tad shakier than I would like, "I don't think this is a good idea."

At first, it's like he doesn't hear me. He just keeps going about grabbing my dick and exposing it to the night air. I hear something like a hum, a hungry sound, and then he wraps his fingers around my cock and looks up. "You sure you don't want this?"

"No, I–" The words die on my tongue when he squeezes and moves his hand in a short stroke. "...Oh, God."

"'Cause it seems like you want to keep going..." Sasuke says conversationally, looking straight at my weeping cock as he speaks. He tugs again and I wilt against the car, my head thudding against the door.

This is my first blowjob in public... and it's with a dude. I've  _got_ to be losing my mind. "Fuck..." I hear myself groan. My voice has dropped, layered with a husky undertone. I'm past the point of no return and I know it.

"Soon, sweetie," Sasuke says with a hint of amusement. "Relax," he orders after another couple strokes and I feel his other hand run up and down my side, like he's trying to comfort me. "I'm gonna show you a good time."

I do as he says and will my fists to loosen and jaw to unclench. It helps quite significantly when he runs his tongue up the thick vein of my shaft and takes me into his mouth. And,  _holy shit_ , does he have a wicked mouth. That little tongue stud is pressing into my flesh, stimulating me in ways I've never felt before.  _Dude's got skills_. I guess I shouldn't be surprised... I bet most gay guys are fantastic at blow jobs, better than most girls anyway. He knows every button to push and in which order.

He starts with a broad sweeping of his tongue down the length and back up, exploring the veins of my throbbing shaft. He pays special attention to the head—gliding his teeth gently over the crown, pressing the stud into my frenulum and lapping upwards. My knees almost buckle when he does this and I have to slam my hands onto the car to keep myself up. There's a moment of pause before Sasuke takes my cockhead in a firm grip and gently tugs on either side. I don't quite understand what he's doing until I feel a long, languid swipe of his tongue across the tip of my dick. Then, my eyes roll back in my head and I gasp as that sinful tongue begins to flick rapidly between the lips of my slit. I can't take the pleasure. I curse and pull his hair and, finally, I beg for him to stop. Sasuke doesn't relent immediately. Instead, he peers up at me from under his bangs. The glint in his eye is absolutely impish. Eventually, he does stop. And one slow, apologetic lap later, he pulls back.

He gives me a moment—only a few seconds—to calm down before he puts his mouth to the tip and takes a long draught of precum. He begins a slow bob, taking in a little more of my dick each time. It's only when I'm over halfway down his throat that he starts to suck and his mouth becomes a blistering vacuum of pure ecstasy.

Pulse racing, I start to pant. I don't know when it happened, but I realize I'm running my hands through his thick, black hair and destroying the spikes I'm sure he spent some time arranging. My fingers curl when his tongue twists and rolls against my shaft and I tug him down a little farther.

He doesn't complain, doesn't sputter or pull back. He just bobs and swirls and sucks. It's amazingly liberating.

To my surprise, I hear myself moan, "Yes... Sasuke."

I've never been terribly vocal during sex. I guess years of being called a loudmouth when I was a kid made me self conscious. But, as Sasuke continues to suck me off, I find my inhibitions melting away in the heat of his mouth. The sound of my own voice is actually arousing, so I let it continue unhindered. I start a mantra, whispering quiet obscenities as he just goes to fucking town.

A strangled gasp of pleasure escapes me when he slips his hand into my pants and cups my balls, rolling and squeezing them in tandem with his steady bob. I momentarily see double when he extends two fingers and presses them into my taint.

I'm on the brink now and I let loose a rumbling groan as my hips start to jerk again. I've still got a hand in his hair and I start to get a little more forceful as I pull him forward, urging him to take more. And Sasuke, champ that he is, obliges.

"Sasuke," I say, my tone warning. I feel that telling tingle and moan desperately, "Ahhh...Sasuke... I'm gonna come."

I expect him to pull off and finish me with his hand—as is the customary response of the women I've been with—so I'm amazed when he just sucks harder. The coil snaps and I jerk my hips twice before going rigid. The rush of my orgasm consumes me, flows through my blood and seeps into my fucking cells.  A strangled cry of ecstasy escapes my throat as pulse after pulse, I unload into his mouth.  His throat constricts around me and he swallows greedily.

I run my fingers through his hair again, pulling those dark blue bangs out of his face, and look at him. His midnight eyes are staring right back, glimmering with the satisfaction of a job well done. I'm struck by how strange and incongruous this image is. His mouth is a tight seal around my glistening cock, his cheeks are hollowed as he sucks up the last drops of my cum. Everything about him is so  _masculine,_  and yet this isn't a position I've ever seen a  _man_ in. But somehow... it seems right.

He twists his tongue around me one last time before pulling back and letting go with a pop. The next moment is a little awkward as I tuck myself back in and he stands, brushing grit off his jeans.

Tension continues to build in the silence as I fasten my belt and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. It finally breaks when I start to laugh. It's a breathy chuckle muffled by the hands I bring to my face. "Holy shit," I say.

I feel heat against me again and peek through my fingers to see Sasuke leaning into me, looking at me with that damn smirk. I mean,  _Jesus_ , it's like the guy has no shame. The look on his face is so haughty and proud, like he doesn't care that he was on his knees moments ago... like he enjoyed the way the asphalt dug into the skin of his knees.

He grabs hold of my wrists and pulls my hands down. "Was it good?" he asks with a tone that tells me he damn well knows the answer.

I scoff and roll my eyes, but after a pause I feel compelled to answer. "Yeah."

"You wanna taste it?" The question is whispered softly against my mouth.

I don't quite understand what he's asking, but I find out a second later when he puts his lips to mine and licks his tongue into my mouth. Under the spearmint and vodka, there's a tang. It's not quite bitter, not quite salty... not like anything I've ever tasted before. Slowly, it dawns on me—it's my cum.  _My own cum_. It's coated his tongue and left a remnant of flavor... and that's what I'm tasting.

As soon as I had this revelation, I should've pushed him away. As soon as I realized that I was tasting  _my jizz_ on a  _dude's tongue_ , I should have ended it. But I didn't. In fact, for reasons I cannot even begin to comprehend, I go into some kind of frenzy. The kiss turns manic as I thrust my tongue into his mouth and ravage it thoroughly.

Once again, I've got my hands fisted in his hair, slanting his head and diving deeper into the embrace. We roll clumsily until his back is pressed to the Rav4 and I'm kissing him so violently one might consider it an attack. His hands find my shoulder blades and start to claw, and somehow I know he isn't trying to defend himself. He's encouraging me. So I kiss him hard, bite his lip ring and pull his hair.

Unable to reign in this roiling passion, my body starts to grind. I can feel my arousal picking up again and I am rather surprised when my dick starts to stir once more. I'm usually a one-and-done kinda guy—I rarely have sex twice in a day, let alone in back to back sessions—but something about tonight is different. Something about Sasuke makes me insatiable.

I break the kiss and pull my hands from his hair to grip the edge of the car. There is no other way to put this... I have lost my damn mind. I'm really testing the suspension of the Rav4 as I grind into Sasuke, thrusting my rock-hard dick against him like a sex-crazed madman.

"Fuck," I whisper against his ear. "Ah... fuck, Sasuke."

He grabs my hips and forcefully pushes them back. He's got to be pretty strong, because I'm fighting him. I don't want to lose that sweet friction, not when I'm aching for another release.  _What the hell is wrong with me?_

"Slow down, tiger," he says playfully. "My place is close by, if you wanna go."

"Yeah," I answer breathlessly. "Yeah, let's go to your place."

A few blocks and about five minutes later, we arrive at the door to his building. It's an old brick structure, but it appears to be well maintained. It has sort of an industrial feel as we walk the concrete floor to what looks like a service elevator.

Between the walk here and the ride up, my hormones have calmed and I'm starting to feel nervous. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should just fake like I'm sick and take off before I do anything I'm going to regret. I look over to Sasuke and study his profile as he stares up at the slowly rising floor number. He's got a bit of blue hair caught in his barbell and I reach out to gently tug it free. He looks askance at me, a small smile on his lips, and my pulse quickens. That's all I need to reaffirm my desire.

Up on his floor, we stop in front of a door marked '33A'. After fighting with the lock for a moment he lets us in, flicks on the lights and tosses his keys to a small table to the right of the door. On the left is the kitchen—it's all brushed steel appliances and the stove has a huge fume hood that looks like it belongs in a cafeteria rather than an apartment. Looking deeper into the space, I see that it's an open floor plan, like a large studio. If I'm being polite, I'd say it has a minimalist design. But in all honesty, it's just barren. There's a chunky oak coffee table, a gold corduroy couch and two worn leather chairs. I can't decide if this is supposed to be shabby-chic or if Sasuke just doesn't give a shit. I see a large accordion screen, which I'm guessing separates the living room from the bedroom. The panels look like oversized washboards, with corrugated steel in weathered wooden frames.

I can feel his eyes on me as I examine his apartment and I slowly turn my head to face him. He doesn't blink when we make eye contact. He just keeps staring. It's a little disconcerting, the way he looks so openly at me. It makes me nervous and excited at the same time.

"Beer?" he asks and I nod.

He turns to the fridge and pulls out two bottles of Heineken. Prying off the caps, he hands one to me and leaves the kitchen, walking with casual strides to the couch. I turn and lean against a concrete pillar that serves to separate the two areas, watching as he takes a seat, slouching back against the cushions and setting one ankle on the opposite knee. He looks back at me and takes a long, leisurely swig. I lift my bottle and take three gulps before I pull it away.

I'm nervous... too nervous. Too nervous and not drunk enough, so I take another sip.

He keeps staring. My attention focuses on the bottle as he presses it to his lips. The way he does this, with his unblinking eyes, is strangely sensual. I finish my beer and feel an inflated sense of confidence that tells me the booze is working. I move towards him and he sets his half-finished bottle on the table.

He's positioned himself completely open in the corner of the couch and brought that ankle down so that his legs are a little spread. One arm is thrown over the top of the couch while the other leans against the armrest. His eyes track my movement with a predatory glint, but his expression is otherwise warm and inviting.

I take a seat on the cushion next to him, not close enough to touch but certainly closer than I  _could_ be. He shifts a little, leaning towards me slightly. Part of me wishes he would just make a goddamn move so I don't have to, but another part of me is happy he is giving me time to adjust.

"Music?" he asks.

"Sure."

He leans over the edge of the couch to a side table I can't see and finds a remote. After the press of a few buttons, music drifts into the room from unseen speakers.

"This good?" he asks.

I don't recognize the song, but it's mellow and unobtrusive—good background noise—so I nod. His lips quirk into a smile and he sets the remote down.

My eyes rove over him in the moment that he's turned away. The only source of light is a floor lamp in the corner that has given the room a soft, yellow glow. It bathes Sasuke in warm hues. He looks different here, away from the harsh club lights. He's lean but not skinny—lithe, I'd say. He's not all hard lines though. There is a softness to his frame, probably why I thought he was a girl in the first place. When he turns back to me, I quickly avert my eyes.

I don't know why I'm so apprehensive. I mean, I'm here... I know what's gonna happen. I want this. So, why am I chewing my lip bloody?

Sasuke shifts again, leaning towards me, and runs a hand through my hair. "Relax," he says. His voice is a low, easy timbre that I do find soothing. "Where's the guy that tried to fuck me in the parking lot?"

The corner of my mouth pulls up into a small, lopsided smile. "I think he sobered up."

He cards his fingers through my hair one more time. "Well, we're just gonna have to fix that."

In one smooth move, he leans forward, grabs his beer, pivots on one knee, and straddles my lap. He puts a hand on my shoulder and takes a long swig, eyes on me the whole time. After pulling the bottle from his lips, he presses them to mine and floods my mouth with Heineken. I'm too shocked to do anything but swallow it down.

Once the beer is gone, my mouth is filled with Sasuke's tongue, rolling and twining with mine. His jaw is working, his lips sliding over my mouth. His hands are running up my arms, over my shoulders and behind my neck to pull my head closer. The way his tongue laps against mine has my stomach twisting with desire and when his fingers curl into my hair, I feel lightheaded. My eyes flutter shut and I begin to kiss him back.

When he starts to rock in my lap, the last of my hesitation turns to ash in the flames of my arousal. My hands, which had been hovering above the cushions in a state of shock, now move to him and travel down his gently tapering torso. They find purchase on his slender hips and I encourage his movement, pulling him into me harder and faster. My pants are growing tighter by the second, as he grinds out a steady rhythm against my pelvis.

My hands slide back up his sides, finding their way under his shirt to explore his body. His skin is hot to the touch. The hardness of his stomach and shifting muscles of his back are strange under my fingers, as I'm used to much more pliable flesh. But there is a gentle curve just above his hips that follows around the small of his back. My hands stroke this spot, feeling somewhat more familiar here.

He pulls away from the kiss suddenly and lifts his arms. I immediately drag my hands up his torso, pulling the tank and fishnet up. Ducking under the fabric, he slides out. I take a moment to admire this newly revealed body—the lean muscle wrapped in porcelain skin. There's no hair to be seen and only the slightest lines define his chest and abdomen. My gaze bounces from one rosy nipple to the other and I am somewhat surprised to find them clear of metal. I cup his sides and run my hands upwards, gliding my thumbs from near his navel to his chest, then gently circle the tiny pink nubs.

"No piercings..." I say. I don't know if it was supposed to be a question or a statement. I'm somewhat entranced by the way the flesh has hardened under my attention.

He shakes his head. "I tried once," he says as he runs his fingers down my arms to trace the back of my hands. "I had some kind of reaction to the metal. Got infected. After that I was too sensitive."

He says this while taking ahold of my thumbs and index fingers. I watch as he brings them together to trap his erect nipples and pinches hard. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and hums, so I take the cue and roll the flesh between my digits.

"Yessss..." he hisses and grabs onto my wrists, digging his blunt nails into the skin.

I give another twist and a pull that has him slurring out expletives. He throws his head back on a thin gasp and grinds into my lap harder. I don't know what this is, what's happening here. I've never known anybody to actually get off on pain, so I'm hesitant to do much more.  I keep squeezing and tugging the tight buds, increasing and release pressure in time with his gyrations, and he keens for more.  His pleasure is too much to watch, so I wrap my arms around him and pull him against me, latching on to one hard nipple. I lave my tongue over the nub before sucking firmly. The sound of his ecstatic cursing rings in my ears as his hands tug on my hair. When I take his nipple between my teeth and gently begin to nibble, he loses his damn mind. He screams out and tries to arch away but I've got my arms locked around him too tightly. I feel his fists come crashing down on my shoulders and back as a long and drawn out, "Fuuuuuck!" fills the room.

I offer a few apologetic flicks of my tongue before letting him go. Panting, he collapses back into my lap. My eyes travel from his flushed face down to his abused left nipple. It's bright pink and splotched red in places. The sight brings a smile to my lips.

"Fucking sadist," Sasuke says as he brushes his hair back.

"I'm not a sadist," I say defensively. "Maybe you're a fucking masochist."

"Never said I wasn't," he replies with a devilish smirk. He lifts a scathing brow at me and points to the pronounced tent in my pants. "But you seemed to enjoy yourself well enough."

I can't help the blush that warms my cheeks, so I look away.

Honestly, I've never been into any of that kinky shit. My sexual repertoire is about as vanilla as they come, but I'd like to believe I excel at the skill set I've developed over the years. Besides, who needs whips and chains when they can fuck like a stallion?

Sasuke shifts on my lap, then stands. "Jesus," he mumbles, rubbing at his crotch. My eyes follow the movement and I can see the contour of his dick straining against those skinny jeans, the fly looking fit to burst.

"Come on, babe," he says as he turns. "I'm done with foreplay."


	3. Do what, now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sasuke proves to be a demanding bottom.

Sasuke walks across the room and disappears behind the screen. I swallow thickly as I stare at that corrugated metal. A light flicks on and I can see his shadow moving under the panels. I take a deep breath. Any apprehension I have is buried beneath my excitement.

Feeling like I've gathered my composure, I stand and slowly make my way over. Nervously wiping my hand down my thighs, I round the screen.

What I see stops me dead in my tracks.

My mind processes the details slowly, taking time to etch this scene into my memory. I can distinctly recall the furniture in the room—a single nightstand decorated with an analog clock and a simple, black lamp; a tall, skinny bookcase filled haphazardly with books of various colors and sizes; one low profile accent chair turned to face the bed; and, of course, the bed itself. The bed is wide, probably a queen, and set on a low platform with drawers for extra storage beneath. The frame, like the bedding, is black. There's an accent of silver from the drawer pulls, glinting in the low light. The comforter also has a sheen to it, a geometric pattern embroidered in a glossier black thread. My eyes skip down to the floor, where I see Sasuke's discarded shoes, belt, and pants. Unable to resist any longer, my gaze moves to Sasuke's nude form.

He is standing at the foot of the bed, facing the mattress with his feet set about shoulder width apart. He's bent over, hands splayed out on the bed.  The lamp does a good job of highlighting the lines of his body.  The high point of his shoulders and hips, and half his torso are bathed in a soft white light.  The valley of his spine, curve of his ass, and backs of his thighs and calves are left in shadow.  

Feeling compelled in a way I've never experienced before, I nearly trip over my feet as I walk towards him. My hands move automatically to strip off my shirt and pull down my pants while I toe off my shoes. I come up behind him and just stand there for a second. I'm eager to touch him but unsure exactly how. Tentatively, I cup his hips and stroke the base of his spine with my thumbs.

"Sasuke..." I say, uncertainty lacing my voice.

He looks over his shoulder, dark eyes smoldering with excitement. "Grab my dick, Naruto," he says in a commanding tone.

"What?" I ask. I don't know why. I know what he said. I know what he wants.

He hangs his head and repeats the order. "Grab. My. Dick." His voice is lower now and considerably more aggressive.

I hesitate for a second, then reach around him. My fingers trace across his thigh until they find the base of his cock and wrap around it. I can't see his dick, but I can tell he's thick from the way his girth fills my hand. I immediately run a battery of comparisons—hefting the length, testing the weight, squeezing my fist and receiving a purr and pulse in response—before deciding that he's almost as thick as me. Slowly, I move my hand in an upward stroke. I can feel the way his skin shifts and slides over the rolling veins. When my fingers reach the tip, they glide easily over the tapered crown.

_Holy shit,_ my inner voice screams.  _Holy, fucking shit! I'm jacking a guy off! I'm actually jacking a guy off!_  The revelation comes to me as I make a series of firm strokes that have Sasuke sighing. Once again, if there was ever a time to take advantage of a moment of clarity and get the hell out of here, this would be it. But I don't. How could I? Sasuke's panting like a bitch in heat and I'm practically dripping with anticipation. I'd be crazy  _not_  to stay.

...Or at least that's what I tell myself as I give him a squeeze and pump faster.

I redirect my attention to the head. My thumb brushes across the slit to spread the pearls that have gathered there. I twist my wrist, press my finger between the soft lips and begin to slowly saw back and forth. I'm rewarded with a slutty, wanton moan and a steady drip of precum. As I continue to play with his slit, I start to twist my fist. He becomes more and more vocal as my actions become more lubricated. My strokes grow more forceful—moving up and down the entire length of his dick in quick succession—before he issues another demand.

"Spank me!" he cries out.

I stop mid stroke. This time, I think I must've misheard him. "What?"

He heaves a frustrated sigh and looks back at me, flipping his bangs out of his face to do so. "Slap my ass," he says. His voice is almost patronizing, like this is such a common request.

I blink at him in response, then slowly raise my left hand and let it fall. The crisp sound of a slap is followed by a tingle in my palm and silence, save for the soft music still playing in the living room. He smiles up at me, a salacious grin that makes his eyes glint sinfully.

"Again," he says and hangs his head once more.

I rub my hand along the curve of his ass, gently squeezing the muscle, then give it a sharp smack. He hollers his praise and I do it again.

I strike up a moderate pace, bringing my hand to his ass with every fourth or fifth stroke of his dick. This whole activity has me beyond aroused. My cock is throbbing, threatening to shoot off like fucking Vesuvius with the slightest provocation. And every time I hear that clap of my palm against Sasuke's rump, I leak a little bit.

"Yes!" he keens, then growls, "Now, tell me I'm bad."

"I... uh, wha...?" I stammer, rather stupefied.

"Tell me I'm a bad boy."

I'm so completely caught off guard by this request that I can't even find the words to tell him no. "I don't... uh..."

He huffs and proceeds to slam his heel into the top of my foot.

"Fuck, asshole!" I shout and spank him harder.

He bows his back and howls in pleasure. Seriously. Fucking. Howls.

I can't quite explain what happens in my brain after that. It's like some switch was flipped. Some of the most lewd language I have ever used suddenly spews from my mouth. And with each slanderous, filthy thing I say, he screams for more.

"You like that?" I ask, bringing my hand to his ass so hard it stings. I squeeze his dick brutally and spank him again. "You kinky bitch."

He's dripping so steadily into my hand that I begin wonder if he came. He's still rock hard though, so I keep fisting his meat. The viscous fluid lubricates my movement, making the strokes fast and furious.

"Nasty cock gobbler," I continue. "I bet that's how you got those holes in your jeans. Huh? Little whore likes to be on his knees?" I ask mockingly, then with more venom, "You fucking slut."

I think maybe some of the vehemence is coming from the break up. I certainly don't harbor any true feelings of resentment for Sasuke and I'm not this good of an actor. This animosity has to be coming from somewhere, and my money is on Sakura. Well, whatever the fuel, it's working. Sasuke's ass is bright red—my hand prints are almost clear against the alabaster of his skin—and he's gasping in pleasure-pain.

"Did you like my cum? You sure swallowed it down. Gluttonous faggot." I pause here, realizing what I just said and fearing that I might have crossed a line. Either he didn't notice or didn't care, because he just keeps murmuring ' _Fuck yes'_ between his cries of pleasure. So I spank him again and say, "You want more? I bet you want my cum all over you. You want me to fuck you and spray you with my jizz?"

"Yes!" he says louder than previously. He looks over his shoulder at me. "God, fucking yes. Do that. When you come, I want it all over me."

I stop everything and stare at him. His entire face is flushed. I can see the glittering of tears in his lashes and the aching desire in his eyes. He's looking at me with such raw passion that it makes my chest tighten. I don't think anybody else has ever looked at me like that. I don't think anybody else has ever had a reason to. In this moment, our shared need is revealed, sizzling and crackling like wildfire.

I don't waste another second before I attack him. I roll him over and descend on his body to cover it in hot, sloppy kisses. I can't get enough of his taste. The salt of his skin dances across my tongue as I drag it over his throat.

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard," I growl into his neck.

He chuckles and grabs my head, lifting it until our gazes meet. "I'm counting on it," he says back. His voice is positively feral with lust.

I cast him a wicked smile and move down his chest, dragging my lips along his skin until I find his nipple—opposite of the one I molested earlier—and suck it firmly. Much to my pleasure, he arches off the bed with a curse and a groan. When I finally let go and lift myself off of him, my dick is aching so hard that I have to wrap my hand around the base and squeeze tightly until I calm down. Sasuke settles back down on the mattress, then rolls onto his stomach. Propping himself up on his knees, he exposes his ass to me.

"Have at it, tiger," he says, like it's a fucking smorgasbord.

With equal amounts of uncertainty and excitement, I place my hands on his cheeks and sink my thumbs into the crevice. I squeeze the firm muscles and part them, stretching the skin taut around his hole. I take a moment to examine the ruddy, puckered ring. Admittedly, I've seen an anus or two in my time, but I've never had my dick in one and I've most definitely never been in such close proximity to a dude's asshole either. This entire concept is so foreign to me that I need some time to process.

Sasuke clearly does a thorough job in manscaping. There's no hair, no smell, nothing that would indicate this area to be anything unpleasant. As I continue to stare, the ring of muscle contracts and relaxes, like a perverse wink. My brow twitches and I hear Sasuke laugh. I look past his rump and and see him staring at me, head resting on the mattress.

"Get to it," he prompts with that damn knowing smirk.

I turn my attention back to his ass to find that hole twitching incessantly. I reach out with my thumb and press against it, putting a halt to the teasing wink. Still unsure of exactly what I should be doing, I drag the pad of my thumb across the wrinkled flesh and feel it contract reflexively. Bringing my other thumb in, I gently pull at the ring and see it open some, revealing just a hint of the pink flesh deeper inside. It's oddly inviting. I try to worm my thumb into his entrance, but the muscles are too tight and the blunt pad of my finger is too dry.

"We need lube," I say as I back off.

"Spit on it," is the simple answer I receive.

"Spit?"

"Yeah," Sasuke says and looks back to me once more. His voice carries a hint of teasing exasperation as he says, "Don't be a pansy. Just spit on my asshole."

For a second, I just stare, dumbfounded. I mean,  _who the hell says this shit?_  But something about being called a pansy by a man about to take it up the ass is inherently challenging, so I straighten up and swab my tongue around in my mouth to gather a hefty dollop of saliva. I honestly don't know if he expects me to actually  _spit_ , so I lean forward and dribble over his hole to coat it along with my thumbs. Moving them in opposite directions, I smear the saliva around and around. Sasuke groans out some sound of approval and his entrance twitches again.

I swallow anxiously, then press my thumb into the ring. The muscles undulate to eagerly swallow it. I pull it out slowly, wait a second, then ram it in harder, driving it well past the first knuckle. I run the pad of my thumb around and I can feel the change in texture from the puckered muscle of his anus to the soft flesh of his chute. I shove back and forth a few more times, learning this strange new environment. He clenches around me and pushes my thumb out. I hesitate for a moment, thinking I may have done something wrong.

"Don't stop," he says, as if he sensed my confusion. "If I fight you, just go harder."

"Alright," I say and lick my lips nervously. I'm not usually this rough, but hell... I've already bitten, pinched and spanked him.  _Why stop now?_

I push my thumb back in, twisting it until his ass has eaten the entire thing. I start a slow pace, stroking in and out of him. Bending my thumb, I explore the warm, wet walls. I quickly learn that the rectum is much smoother and more flexible than a vagina. It lacks the firm ridges and hard edges that I've felt inside women. It seems quite hospitable...  _No wonder so many guys are into anal._

As my left thumb continues to plunder his channel, my right moves over his taint, pressing deeply and dragging up to his occupied hole. Sasuke's soft mewls encourage me as I continue to stroke him inside and out. The last time I rub over the wrinkled flesh, I pull my other thumb to the side and push in alongside it. It's tight at first as the second digit plows deeper, but Sasuke relaxes and soon both my thumbs are planted firmly in the hot vice of his ass.

I start to piston them in and out, alternately pulling one up while sinking the other deeper. Sasuke seems to appreciate this, as he pushes his ass back and moans into the mattress. My own breath quickens as I listen to his muffled cries and rumbling growls. The deliciously wanton sounds drive me to pound into him relentlessly.

I'm taking to his ass like it's second nature. My uncertainty has vanished and what's left in its place is an intense desire to dominate Sasuke. I want to make him scream and cry and beg for more. I want to see him squirm beneath me and come like a fucking geyser.

I hook my thumbs and pull them in opposite directions, thoroughly stretching him as I rub the pads against the soft walls and search for the bulge of his prostate. I've never experienced this personally, but I've heard about it. I know its supposed to be like an instant orgasm button, like a girl's G-spot; and if I can find  _that_  mythical place, I'm pretty sure I can find this. I locate a change in the texture and run my thumb over it experimentally. Sasuke's breath catches and I smirk mischievously. Twisting my left wrist, I pull upwards on the muscled ring while my right thumb jabs straight down, into the bulge.

Sasuke instantly flies up, nearly headbutting me in the process. Removing my left hand, I catch him and hold him against me, back to chest. I sink my right thumb deeper and start to massage his sweet spot.

"Oh, shit! Oh,  _shit_!" Sasuke cries out. "Oh sweet fuck, Naruto!"

I continue to rub, driving my thumb deeper into that bulge. His hands fly to my hips and slide back to my ass where he starts to claw. He pulls me closer until our bodies are flush and my dick is trapped between his cheeks, smearing hot precum along his lower back.

"Come, Sasuke," I order quietly into his ear. He whimpers desperately as I rub a tight circle against his prostate. I whisper once more. "Come for me, baby."

He releases an aching mewl as I dig in deeper. His sphincter tightens, holding my thumb in place. I wiggle it back and forth, tickling the smooth bulge.

"F-fuck... Ahh-" he gasps, then shouts, "Coming!"

On cue, arcs of milky fluid shoot from him. He's tense through the many pulses, then wilts against me, panting. I pull my thumb out and bring my hand to his hip, rubbing gently.

"Good boy," I say quietly against his temple, my breath ruffling his hair.

I press my lips to his sweaty hairline and inhale deeply. His scent is stronger now, heady and intoxicating. I kiss him again.

I give him a moment to recuperate, but my own throbbing erection can no longer be ignored. Slowly, I reposition him, careful to avoid the splashes of cum pooling on his bedspread.

He doesn't protest as he's laid on his back, legs spread. Though I'm sure he's already plenty loose and moist, I still want to make sure I'm well lubed. So I spit into my palm and run it up and down my dick, adding my saliva to the streaks of precum that have already run down my shaft. I move over him and line myself up to his entrance. It's a little swollen now and even redder. And when I press my blunt cockhead against the pucker, he sucks in a sharp breath. But he doesn't stop me and I remember his words from earlier, so I push forward.

Under his hairless, slightly wrinkled sac and past the ruddy skin of his taint, I watch as the flared crest of my dick sinks into his hole. The ring of muscle stretches to accommodate, then works to suck me in and push me out simultaneously. Unable to resist the sensation and the erotic image, I pull the tip out to rest against the pucker and then push back in again. I penetrate him slowly, over and over, watching lecherously as his hole stretches around the tip of my cock. It is by far the most obscene thing I've ever seen… and the most exquisite thing I've ever felt.

"Please... Naruto..." Sasuke moans breathlessly.

Hearing his whimpered plea, I sheath myself in one swift thrust. Sasuke's muscles spasm, gripping my length tightly. My eyes roll back into my head as shockwaves of bliss lick up my spine, causing me to shudder in their wake. I can't move. Sasuke's walls have me wrapped in their pillowy softness and if I move, I'll come.

I take a breath, open my eyes and look down at him. He's staring up at me with this expression of smoldering excitement, this unadulterated passion that has my heart hammering against my ribs. I rub my hands up and down the backs of his thighs, pushing them down and lowering myself onto him. He reaches up and cards his fingers through my hair, pulling my head down until our lips are brushing.

The air is thick with the electricity of our desire and I swear I can feel sparks fly as we exchange breaths. I've never really understood that saying until now, but as I sink deeper into his body and look unabashedly into his onyx eyes, I get it. The sensation is fleeting, but it's there.

"Ride me, cowboy," he says on a soft exhale, then flicks his tongue playfully against my bottom lip.

I pull back and drag my hands from his legs up his sides. My fingers ghost over his arms to grip his wrists and hold them firmly above his head. I look him directly in the eye, countering his demand with my own challenging expression. Slowly, I begin to pull out, feeling my shaft slide along his supple walls. I watch him intently, seeing how his eyes begin to glaze and his lips part on a soft moan. I pull back and back and back until his clenching chute is holding little more than the tip. The seconds I pause seem to stretch out achingly. Tightening my grip on Sasuke's wrists, I slam forward. His body jostles under me, forcing out a low grunt. His fingers flex then fist as those sultry, obsidian eyes roll back.

The rhythm is slow but intense as I pummel him with my cock. It takes everything I have to restrain myself. I want nothing more than to fuck him furiously until my orgasm rips through me, but I made promises tonight and I'm going to keep them. I'm going to pound him until we're both drenched in sweat and howling in ecstasy, and then I will spray him liberally with my hot, sticky cum.

I bury myself with long, powerful thrusts that have me panting and choking back screams of pleasure. Sasuke, though, doesn't hold back. He cries out louder and louder as I slam into him. "Uhn... Uhn... UHN... Fuck... AHH!"

"Yeah," I growl, "you like that?"

He tilts his head back and screams at the ceiling, "Yes! Harder... Harder God dammit!"

More than happy to oblige him, I ramp up the speed of my pistoning hips. The sound of my sac slapping against his ass is almost drowned out by his senseless cries. I strengthen my grip on his wrists and thrust wildly. His hollers seem to straddle the line between ecstasy and agony as he arches off the bed.

The way we move together—the way we grunt and growl—is like no experience I've ever had. It's wildly carnal, like the mating of beasts. No, that's not right. I don't even think animals fuck like this, not with this kind of desperation.

"Take it!" I command, completely uncaring of just how incredibly cliché it sounds. "Take my fat cock!"

He nods furiously, wrapping his legs around my waist and digging his heels into my back. He starts to buck against me, rocking his hips and driving me deeper into his body. I can see his muscles straining, his chest heaving. He's a captivating sight as he writhes under me. Still pounding away, I lean down and cover his mouth with mine. Our tongues clash wildly, lapping greedily. I'm not going to last much longer now, not with the way his chute is strangling my cock. I break away from the kiss as sizzling waves of pleasure crash through me.

"I'm gonna come," I say, my voice straining with anguish and aching with euphoria.

"Not yet," Sasuke says, almost sobbing. "Naruto... I'm so close."

I groan and grit my teeth, but manage to slow my erratic thrusts to a languid roll. My balls, robbed of release, are heavy and throbbing. I let go of Sasuke's wrists and I pull myself back. Taking his hips in my hands, I lift his pelvis off the bed. This change in angle has my cock striking his prostate in blistering succession.

"Oh, Jesus!" he cries, thrashing his head from side to side. "Yes, Naruto! Ahh... Fuck me, fuck me!"

He chants this until the words morph into animalistic grunts. These change to gasps, which grow sharper and louder until I know that he's reached his limit—which I'm quite thankful for, as I've been at mine for several minutes. It's been with pure willpower that I've managed to stave off my climax.

I pull out swiftly and take a dick in each hand. A few fierce strokes send me careening off the edge, shooting my load everywhere. Thick streams of cum soar as far as Sasuke's neck, though most fall on his chest and stomach. Smaller spurts land on his pelvis and pool in the hollow near his thighs.

All the while, I keep pumping him, feeling as his hot length swells in my fist. He screams one final string of expletives before spilling onto his stomach. I milk him dry, until he's whimpering that he's had enough, then I squeeze him a final time and let go.

I sit back and look at him, covered in cum and trying to catch his breath. Sweat has plastered his indigo bangs to his forehead and temple. He looks utterly wrecked and I almost smirk at this thought, until I realize I'm trembling. It seems the adrenaline has worn off and now I feel like I'm about to collapse.

"Where's the bathroom?" I ask, my voice still a low, husky timbre.

Sasuke flicks his wrist, gesturing vaguely behind me. I make it there on shaky legs and lean against the counter as I hold my junk over the sink and quickly wash up. When I've finished, I just stand there, staring at my reflection.

_What have I done? What did I just do? And why does it not bother me?_ I've never been much for one-night stands and I've never been into guys.  _What the hell happened to me tonight?_  I'd like to blame it on the booze, but that'd be a cop out. I knew what I was doing. I chose to leave with him and I enjoyed the feel of his mouth on my body. I got off on making him squirm and if I had the chance, I'd do it all again.  _What does that mean?_

I shake the thought from my head and look around the bathroom. After rummaging through a few cabinets, I find a clean towel and return to the bedroom. Sasuke's just as I left him, sprawled out on the mattress with cum pooling at his navel and dripping off his sides. I start to clean him off, wiping the streaks from his porcelain skin.

"You're such a gentleman," he murmurs, then chuckles lightly as I run the towel over his side.

I snort. "Well, I didn't get you in the face."

"Yeah... too bad."

I roll my eyes. "You're such a freak."

"You liked it," he retorts, rather matter-of-factly.

_Yeah, I did._  I don't say the words, but I smile. He can't see it though. He's got an arm tossed over his eyes.

"Jesus," he says on a stretch, "straight guys are always wild."

"Straight guys?" I ask. "...You fuck a lot of straight guys?"

Sasuke lifts himself up on his elbows and looks at me squarely. "A few," he answers. His dark eyes move over me in an appreciating fashion. "But you were by far the best."

I don't know how to feel about that statement. His words do a good job of stroking my ego, but they somehow make me feel cheap. That's the part that really confuses me. Why do I care if I'm  _just another_ straight guy? It shouldn't bother me if Sasuke thinks of me as a notch on his bedpost... but it kinda does.  _Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me?_

"Well," I say, trying to keep my tone light and teasing, "you're the best gay sex I've ever had."

He chuckles and lies back down, arms tucked behind his head and ankles crossed, completely relaxed in his nudity. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

"Well, um... thanks." Alright, things are just starting to get awkward now. I move off the bed and start to gather my clothes.

I'm stepping into my boxers when Sasuke sits up. He watches me for a moment, then asks, "Are you leaving?"

Zipping up my fly, I turn to face him. "Yeah. I should get back home."

I bend down to grab my shirt and notice how his gaze follows my movement. There is some conflict glinting in the depth of his eyes. I'd almost say it was disappointment, if that didn't seem so absurd.

Once I'm fully dressed, I step up to the foot of the bed and run a hand through my hair. He's looking up at me so openly, like he's ready to accept whatever it is I have to say. My mind fumbles for words. "I... had a good time tonight."  _That didn't sound too stupid, did it?_

I guess not, as he smiles in response. There's another moment where he appears to be appraising me before coming to some sort of decision. He slides to the edge of the mattress, reaches for the nightstand, and pulls the drawer open. Taking out a pen and notepad, he scribbles something, tears off the sheet, and folds it sharply. I can't stop the way my eyes move over his naked form as he stands and walks over to me.

"Look," he says, as he stops in front of me and cocks his hip, "I know you're straight, or whatever," he says this in such a way that leads me to believe he doesn't think it's true. "—But if you wanna hook up again..." He holds out the slip of paper. "—Give me a call."

My eyes dart to his hand, up to his eyes, and back down once more before I reach out and take the paper. "A-Alright," I stammer as I tuck it into my pocket.

I don't waste anymore time before shoving my feet into my shoes and turning to the door. I have to get out of here and clear my head.

I don't even make it to the kitchen before I stop and look back.

"Goodnight, Sasuke," I say, rather softly.

That wasn't what I meant to say... and it certainly wasn't how I wanted to sound. I'd intended to give him a firm ' _Goodbye.'_ I was supposed to sound sure and absolute. But somehow, seeing him standing there and watching me walk away with that small smile curving his lips, my resolve wavered.

"Goodnight, Naruto," he replies, his voice smooth and satisfied.


	4. Allegorical Enchiladas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Food metaphors could solve all the world's problems.

The moment I step out of Sasuke's apartment, everything becomes a blur. Somehow, I commandeer a cab and stumble up to my apartment. I make it to my room, collapse on my bed, and promptly pass the fuck out. I sleep like the dead.

The next morning, my groggy brain slowly pieces things together. I'm still wearing the clothes I went out in, Kiba has blown up my phone with texts and voicemails, and my head is spinning.

First things first—I shower. This takes longer than normal, as I can't seem to focus on the task at hand. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around what happened last night. I can remember every detail, but I can't seem to figure out  _how_ it happened.

"What was I thinking?" I ask myself aloud as I lather my body scrub into my hair. "Shit," I say, realizing what I've done. I rinse off and try again.

Eventually, I move from the shower to the sink where I proceed to brush my teeth three times—once to get the taste of stale booze out of my mouth, again to actually clean and then a third time when I remember tasting my cum.

I diligently ignore my phone as it goes off again while I'm getting dressed. I go to throw my towel in the hamper, then realize it's overflowing. Grumbling, I take the heaping bin to the washing machine. While I don't bother sorting anything, I do go through my pockets and find some change, a few wadded up bills and folded up receipts. After starting the washer, I take my fistful of dirty laundry booty back to my bedroom. I drop the money in a mason jaw on my dresser and sort through the paper to make sure I don't toss anything important. It's mostly fast food receipts and one bank statement. I toss everything in the trash until there's one slip left. I open it and stare at the contents.

In sharp black ink, underneath a phone number, it reads: _'_ _You know you liked it. Sasuke'._

I can't help but smile. It's just so damn fitting. I move my hand over the trashcan but hesitate. I stand there, debating whether or not to throw the note away, before huffing in frustration.

"Don't be fucking stupid," I tell myself and crumple the paper before flicking it into the trash.

I finally return Kiba's many calls. After a few awkward minutes of conversation, we agree to meet for lunch. Maybe it won't be so weird talking over burgers and fries. We meet at a restaurant halfway between our homes and order double bacon cheeseburgers a piece and split 20 hot wings. At least I know my appetite hasn't changed. We wait until all the food has arrived before bringing up the giant fucking elephant in the room.

"So, just to be clear," Kiba says as he dunks a wing into his cup of blue cheese, "was being with Sakura so bad that she turned you queer?"

I have to close my eyes to keep from rolling them. "No," I say with an exasperated groan. "Sakura did not make me gay."

"Okay," Kiba says between bites, "'cause she's already on my shit list for being a bitch. I just wanna know if she is responsible for this too."

"She's not _responsible_ for anything," I say, picking at my fries. I select one, then stab it in Kiba's direction. "And there's nothing to even be responsible for. This was an isolated incident."

Kiba nods. "Good," he says as he sucks the last morsels of wing meat from some bones and tosses them aside. He's just begun to suck the sauce from his fingers when he pauses. "So, this isn't turning you on right now?"

"Jesus..." I groan up at the ceiling.

The remainder of the meal is spent convincing Kiba that I am, in fact, still a heterosexual male. But as we near the end of our burgers, I'm starting to think I might also be working to convince myself.

"I mean, it's not like I'm attracted to guys," I say, for what has to be the fifth time.

"Right," Kiba answers dutifully, but I can sense his uncertainty.

"It's just sex," I continue defensively. "I like to jack off, that doesn't make me asexual."

Kiba furrows his brow. "I don't think that's what that means." He takes a thoughtful sip of his soda, then asks, "Who do you think of when you're jerkin' it?"

"Girls," I answer confidently. This is true. My spank bank is filled entirely with images of women.

"See?" Kiba says encouragingly. "Honestly, I don't even understand how you got it up for him."

I'm suddenly inundated with very fresh, very sensual memories—the slip of his tongue stud past my lips, the heat of his body against mine and the hardness he pressed against my thigh. I'm staring vacantly at the table as I remember slipping my hands around his slim hips and grabbing his ass.  _Oh... that ass..._

"Naruto?" Kiba says, sounding a little concerned.

"Huh?" I snap my attention back to him.

"Uh... you need a minute?" he asks, sounding a little uncomfortable.

_Shit! Recover. Recover!_  "What?" I ask, then with a chuckle add, "No. I was just thinking of... um... something else."  _Smooth, Naruto. Real fucking smooth._

Kiba doesn't look convinced. He just blinks at me, his expression growing more confused by the second. "It was that good, huh?" he asks out of nowhere.

"What?" I nearly choke.

"Dude..." Kiba says incredulously, "you're blushing and... um..." He points across the table. "You're about to make that glass come."

My brow twitches and I look down to my Coke. I've got the glass in a firm grip and I realize I've been stroking it subconsciously. I quickly pull away and wipe the condensation off on my pants.

I bury my face in my hands and sigh. "What's wrong with me?"

When I look back up, I can see Kiba frowning. "You said you knew what you were doing. You said it would be fine."

_Ah, shit_. So not only have I pulled Kiba into this incredibly awkward situation, but I've made him feel guilty to boot.  _Fucking shoot me now._

"I know, Kiba. I'm sorry, man. Please don't feel like this is your fault. You tried to stop me, and I ignored you."

His frown falters and his lips purse into a thin line. He appears to contemplate his fries rather deeply. He even plucks one from his plate and taps it steadily for a few seconds before tossing it away.

"No," he says adamantly, "as your wingman, it was my job to make sure you didn't go home with any skanks, uggos or fatties... I'm pretty sure letting you leave with a dude is some sort of felony in the bro code." He looks at me with undeniable resolution. "I fucked up last night. But I promise I will make it up to you."

"Make it up to me?" I repeat dubiously.

"We'll hit up another club tonight," he answers, rather enthusiastically. "And I promise, I won't let you leave until you got the hottest, wettest girl hanging off your arm."

My lips pull into a small smile. Leave it to Kiba to try to solve a problem with pussy. "I appreciate the offer, but I really don't feel like going out tonight."

"Come on. I'll pay for everything," he prods with a bright smile. "Consider this an all expense paid trip to Fucktown... Straight Fucktown."

I huff a laugh and roll my eyes. "Thanks... but not tonight. I'm just gonna hang out at home, have a few beers and watch some TV."

"Fine," he says, dismissively. "Stay home tonight. We'll go out next weekend."

"Sounds good," I say, relieved he backed off.

* * *

Kiba paid for lunch. He didn't say anything, but I know he's worried about me losing my job. I'm not concerned. They gave me a nice severance. And with what I have saved, I have enough to live off of for the next couple months if I need to. I'll be okay. Financially, anyway. I'm still feeling a little off kilter mentally and emotionally.

It's fine though... It hasn't even been a full 24 hours yet since all this shit went down. I'll take a couple days to get my head on straight, then start looking for new job. This is good. It's like a fresh start.

Or, at least this is what I keep telling myself as I lounge about my apartment, passively watching a  _Law and Order_  marathon. I'm trying really hard to ignore the voice in my head that insists I'm actually quite pathetic.  _Loser_. Goddamn that voice... Sakura's fucking voice.

I've just opened my third beer when I hear my doorbell ring. I stop mid-stride in my kitchen and furrow my brow. Nobody said anything about coming over and it's too late to be somebody selling cookies or Jesus.  _Maybe it's a neighbor?_

I put my drink down and go to the door. Looking through the peephole, I see a woman on the other side. She's young and blonde. She doesn't look familiar... but I don't know all my neighbors. I watch her for a few seconds as she twirls the end of her hair around her finger.

I pull open the door and greet her dubiously. "Hello?"

The woman, who was closely examining the wooden apartment number nailed into my door frame, snaps her attention to me and smiles. "Hi!"

I wait for her to say something else, but she just stands there grinning absently. I look around her but see nothing and no one that would give me any clue as to who she is or what she's doing at my doorstep. "Can I help you?" I finally ask.

"I'm Ino," she says, like that's any sort of answer to my question.

I squint a little, searching my memory for the name or an image that matches this girl, but I'm coming up blank. She's quite pretty—long, platinum hair; bright, blue eyes; and a pair of perky tits... I'd think I'd remember her.

"I'm sorry... Ino? Have we met before?"

"Huh-uh," she answers with a shake of her head that sends her long flaxen ponytail swishing. She pulls a slip of paper out of her pocket. "You're... Naruto?"

_Oh God_. I'm almost afraid to answer. "Yes?"

"Your friend Kevin sent me."

"Kevin?" I ask. This is going from weird to weirder.

"Uh, yeah," she answers. "He sent me to keep you company tonight."

My grip on the door tightens and I deadpan. "What?"

She blinks innocently, then shivers a second later. "I forgot a jacket... Can I come in?"

My expression remains vapid and unimpressed. It has to be at least 80 degrees out there, but I suppose she isn't getting much insolation out of her sleeveless, purple blouse and mini skirt. I sigh and open the door wider for her.

"Thanks," she says with a flashing, white smile.  She steps in and looks around approvingly. "Nice place."

I have a feeling she's just being polite, as my apartment is a mess right now. "Thanks," I say as I pick up some empty bottles and cup-o-noodle containers. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting anybody or I would've picked up a little."

She shrugs. "I've seen worse."

"Um, have a seat... I guess. I'll be right back."

I toss the trash and pull out my phone. My thumbs nearly crush the screen as I send Kiba a text. " _Who's Ino?"_

I grab my beer off the counter and take a swig as I peer around the corner. Ino has sat down on the couch and taken this moment to adjust her bra. I watch her as she looks down at her cleavage and shimmies.

My phone vibrates in my hand and I glare down at the response. " _A sure thing,_ " it says.

I tap furiously. " _Kiba. Did you hire me a prostitute?"_

" _Hahahaha! I mean, uh... No."_

" _I'm going to kill you,"_  I respond.

" _Telling you. I wouldn't do that, man."_

" _Slowly."_

A few seconds later, I receive, " _Musta been your friend Kevin. He's always doing that kind of shit."_

My eye twitches. " _Keep it up. I'll cut you into pieces and feed you to your dogs."_

" _Fucking harsh dude. Just enjoy her."_

I hang my head and clench my eyes. "Goddamn you Kiba," I murmur tightly. I take a breath and walk to the living room. I try to make my voice polite but firm as I speak. "I'm sorry, Ino. I think there's been a mista—"

"Look," she interjects, her voice having lost its saccharine sweetness, "the night is paid for whether you fuck me or not, but I'd rather not go back to my tweaking roommate. So, if it's not too much trouble, can we just figure something out?"

I stand there, slack-jawed. "Like what? You wanna order pizza and play board games?"

Two hours later and we're sprawled out on the floor polishing off a large pepperoni while Ino deals cards for a fourth round of Gin. I take my turn and discard a three of hearts, which she happily picks up, much to my chagrin. I haven't won a round yet.

"So," she says as she arranges her hand and discards, "why'd your friend hire me?"

I sigh heavily as I draw. "Guilt," I answer simply.

She looks at me quizzically. "That doesn't make much sense."

"Nope," I respond dryly and discard. "But the whole situation is a little complicated."

"So... Kevin did something and feels bad about it, so he hired you a hooker," she states, obviously fishing for more information.

"Pretty much."

She draws another card and arranges this in her hand. I cringe at the smile I can see pulling at the corner of her mouth. "What'd he do? Fuck your girlfriend?"

I laugh mirthlessly. "I wish. That'd be a lot simpler."

"So what was it?" Ino asks as I draw.

There's nothing in her tone that would imply her curiosity is anything but innocent. I think for a moment as I play out my turn. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell her. She doesn't know me and, as a prostitute, she really has no room to judge me.  _Fuck it_ , I decide. I tell her everything, starting with getting fired and by the time I've finished, detailing right up to the moment I answered my door this evening, we've abandoned the card game.

When describing the events of last night, it all seems so surreal. A few times I had to stop in order to get over my own sense of shock. But, strangely, none of it was repulsive and I never once felt a twinge of regret. That has to mean something...  _right?_

"Wow," she says once I've finished. She's been watching me, completely enthralled throughout the entire tale.

"I know," I reply, shaking my head. "Pretty fucked up, huh?"

"A little," she answers and I snort a laugh at her. She continues undaunted, "But, you know, it makes sense now."

"Oh yeah?"

"Sure," Ino says, simply yet confidently. "You're going through some tough shit and your boy Kiba feels responsible for making it worse. So he hired me to help you, you know... straighten some things out."

"Oh. Ha ha," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "But it's like I said. I'm not all of the sudden into dudes."

She stares at me for a moment, seemingly unconvinced. "So why don't you want to fuck me?"

I lower my eyes, feeling oddly embarrassed. "Out of principle," I say, then look back up apologetically. "No offense."

She shrugs. "None taken." A moment later she asks, "Wanna see my tits?"

My eyes automatically drop to her breasts. From what is spilling out over the top of her shirt, I'd bet they're pretty fantastic. I struggle with my moral dilemma for all of five seconds before I nod. She smiles and moves to sit up straight, right in front of me. As she unbuttons her blouse, I get this weird sense of nostalgia, like I'm 15 all over again. I wipe my suddenly sweaty palms on my thighs and watch intently as the fabric slips off her shoulders. It's a front-clasp bra and her breasts heave as she works it open. Slowly, teasingly, Ino peels the fabric away.

They're outstanding—full, pert and perky. Her rosy pink nipples are pebbled and hard, perfect for flicking your tongue against.

"You wanna touch them?" she asks, leaning towards me and causing her tits to sway forward invitingly.

I don't even bother answering. I just reach out with both hands and gently cup her. They're soft, supple and most definitely real. I'm barely even conscious of my actions as I squeeze and knead her breasts. I watch absently as I brush my thumbs over the stiff peaks of each nipple.

I learn two things as I palm Ino's tits. First, my opinion of breasts is unchanged—they are fucking awesome. Second, I wanted to suckle Sasuke's nipples much more than hers. I think about how he bowed his back and moaned when I pinched those sensitive nubs, and I know touching Ino in the same way won't stir me nearly as deeply.

I feel confident that this conclusion has nothing to do with emotional attachment, as I know Ino about as well as I know Sasuke—that is to say, hardly at all. It's also not an issue of attraction—Ino is gorgeous, voluptuous and definitely my type. Or, at least, what I thought was my type.

I won't deny an inkling of desire—I am a man after all—but it's nothing compared to what I felt for Sasuke. There's none of the passion, none of the raw need. And I'm miles away from hard.

"You still don't want to fuck me?" She asks, low and provocative, leaning into my touch.

I pull my hands back, but continue to stare as I quietly answer, "No."

"No?" she asks, obviously disbelieving.

My eyes move to hers and I shake my head. "No. I don't."

Ino sits back, looking a little offended. I can't think of anything to say that might dissuade this awkwardness.

"They're perfect," I find myself saying, trying to assuage her.

"Sure. Thanks," Ino says as she puts her bra back on.

"No, really," I insist. "My head's just not... right, right now."

"I'll say," she murmurs, fastening the last button on her shirt.

"Hey!"

She puts her hands up defensively. "I'm just saying... it sounds like your head and your heart are in two different places."

"My heart has nothing to do with this," I mumble back.

"Fine," she says, then amends her statement sardonically. "Your head and your dick are in two different places."

I open my mouth to retort, but find that her words are too true to refute. This may not be a matter of the heart, but it is definitely causing some internal dysfunction. I mean, before last night, I would have jumped at the chance to motorboat Ino's glorious rack. But now, I look at her sweet double-D's and feel practically nothing.  _How can that be?_

"I just don't get it," I say despairingly.

Her eyes soften empathetically. "When I was younger, my family used to go out to Mexican every Friday. And every Friday, for years, I would order cheese enchiladas." Ino stops at the incredulous look I'm giving her. "Just hear me out. I have a point. Anyway, I never tried anything else, because I was afraid I wouldn't like it. Then, one day, my mom ordered me a chimichanga instead. It came smothered in sour cream and guac and I was  _sure_  I'd hate it, but she insisted I had to at least try it before I could order my enchiladas. Can you guess what happened?"

"You liked it," I answer blandly.

Throwing her arms out, she exclaims, "I  _loved_ it! It was an explosion of flavor and so,  _so_  much better than those shitty cheese enchiladas."

"So... what?" I ask. "You kept ordering the chimichanga after that."

"No," she says, suddenly void of emotion. "A few days later, my dad skipped out on us and my mom started drinking. We never went out for Mexican again." She quickly shakes her head, like she's clearing it of the memory. "But I think my point is made."

"I guess..." I say, not entirely sure her analogy has helped me.

"All I'm saying is that if you've only ever had cheese enchiladas, you'll never know what else you might like better." Ino says this so sagaciously, as if imparting some deep wisdom, that I can't help but crack a smile. She continues her strange pontification. "It doesn't make the way you feel about cheese enchiladas wrong. Just like it doesn't make the way you feel about chimichangas wrong. You can like both. Maybe some days you'll be in a chimi mood and other days you'll want an enchilada. It's okay. And maybe you'll only ever like one special chimi from one restaurant and never anywhere else. That's okay too."

I study her for a moment, lending an additional weight to the air around us, then I don a serious expression as I ask, "What if I like menudo?"

Her brow furrows in disgust. "That's gross, Naruto. Do you know what they put in that?"

My pokerface cracks and I begin to laugh. Ino joins in shortly after. The sound of our shared guffaw fills my apartment. It takes a few minutes for us to regain our composure and when we do, we're having to wipe tears from our eyes.

Ino doesn't stay much longer after that. I walk her to the door and give her a hug before she leaves. I don't imagine I'll ever see her again, but I don't think I'll be forgetting her any time soon. I hate to give Kiba credit, considering how horrifically ill-conceived his plan was, but he actually might have helped me tonight.

I pull out my phone and send him a quick message before heading to bed. " _Murder threat retracted. You may live another day."_

* * *

I spend Sunday updating my resume and checking out job listings online. I find a few promising leads on Monster. Kiba calls and I give him an earful. I don't care if last night turned out to be alright. I still don't let him off the hook for hiring me a fucking prostitute.

On Monday, I clean out my apartment, tossing everything that reminds me of Sakura and making the space mine again. I dig through my closet and find all the things she insisted I get rid of, like my posters and kick ass samurai sword. With my sword on display and walls adequately adorned, I hit the store to buy a cart-full of beer and chips and a variety of processed meats—all things Sakura tried to keep out of my kitchen.

By Wednesday, I've forgiven Kiba, more or less, and invite him over to drink and play Halo. I don't think we've done that on a weeknight since I graduated. It feels good, like I'm my own man again. I even have an interview on Thursday that goes pretty well.

Friday, I sleep in late, then spend a good portion of the afternoon exercising. I visit the apartment complex gym and pool and then end the day in the sauna. I finally go back to my apartment when a portly, middle aged man takes a seat across from me in the steam room and removes his towel.

I'm standing in the shower, letting the spray wash away the last suds from my body, when I realize I haven't jerked off in months. Sakura always made me feel so guilty about it, so I promised her I wouldn't. But now, as water runs down my body in hot rivulets, I feel the urge.

I take my time, drawing it out into a leisurely affair. Making the most of this time, I use both hands to squeeze and tug, stroke and fondle. I close my eyes and lean against the cool tile wall as I beat off. At first, the image behind my eyelids is a generic female body—just curves and breasts. Then she's on her knees, bobbing her head in time to my pumping hand. I pull on my sac as my climax approaches and I fist my tip vigorously, throwing myself headlong towards orgasm. On the verge of pleasure, the image in my mind changes. The head between my legs now has short, black hair and equally dark eyes that peer up at me to watch as I come. My hips jerk, my fist stutters and I holler up at the ceiling as I release.

Dazedly, I rinse off my hand and turn off the water. I wrap myself up in a thick towel and stumble out of the bathroom. I collapse on my bed and nearly melt into the mattress.  _God, I missed jacking off._ Eventually, my pulse calms and I take a deep, relaxed breath. I can't get the image out of my mind—Sasuke's eyes smoldering with lust, his cheeks hollowed as his mouth slides up and down my length.

I roll over and sigh heavily. My eyes fall to the wastebasket in the corner of the room. I stare at it challengingly for several minutes. It taunts me in return, sitting there all smug, holding the object of my conflict. I growl at it and toss my head in the opposite direction. Approximately seven seconds later, I lunge across the room and lose my towel in the process. Naked, I flip the wastebasket upside down and spill its contents all over my floor. I rummage through used tissues, pocket lint and receipts until I find the crumpled up piece of paper. I stand up, victorious, and open it. For a moment I just stare at the note, the crisp lines of ink that form the letters and numbers.

I walk to my dresser and set the slip down on top. I continue to stare at it as I rummage through the drawers, pulling out boxers, jeans and a shirt.  _Am I really considering this?_  I ask myself repeatedly as I slide on my underwear. I can feel in my gut that I want to, but I'm still so uncertain. I remember Ino's advice and tell myself I won't know until I try.

Once I'm dressed, I take the paper in my left hand and grab my phone with my right. I dial each number slowly, then stop and stare at the call button. I hesitate, flex my thumb and then chicken out.  _Just do it!_  My finger reacts, hitting the button and sending the call.  _Shit!_  I stare at the phone, listening to the faint ringing.

A few seconds pass and I hear a soft, "Hello?" I'm frozen in place, staring wide-eyed at the screen. "Hello?" I hear again.

Finally, I snap out of my stupor and put the phone to my ear. "Hi," I answer, my voice wavering with nerves.

"Hi..." he responds. He waits a few seconds before asking, "Who is this?"

"Oh... uh, it's Naruto. Sorry." I pause to see if he says anything but the line remains silent. "We uh... met last week."

I hear a quiet laugh on the other end. "Oh, I remember you, Naruto. I'm just surprised you actually called." He pauses for a moment, then adds, "Happy, but surprised."

"Well..." I start, still searching for words. "I've been thinking about... you know. And I was just wondering if you'd like to... you know.  Maybe we could go get some dinner or something."

"Dinner, huh?" he asks. His tone is light, just shy of teasing.

"Yeah," I answer, finally starting to feel a little more confident. "You wanna get some Mexican? I'm feeling like a chimichanga."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I do hope you enjoyed this humorous little smut-fest. XD


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